Interlude 10
by marymin
Summary: Goes with the 10th episode. Azami is gone, but Shion and Tsukihiko are still here.


The shards of light glittered and fell from midair, drifting down to glint among blades of grass like discarded scales. Like stars in morning, they began to wink out of existence, one by one, but no one was watching them anyway. The image was anything but serene, ruined by the screams ripping through the night air.

In the doorway, Shion was the first to quiet, her tiny frame shaking with thick sobs as she wrapped her arms around herself. Her knees were full of splinters and hot tears stained her skirt, her throat raw from her desperate begging. Around her lay the fragments of her once-safe home, the door knocked off its hinges and riddles with bullets, her mother's blood splattered across the floor. She shivered, flinching away from the sound of her father's shrieks. She'd never heard him like this, and she didn't know what to do.

Up in her room her bags were packed, her favorite fairy tales tucked into a cloth satchel side by side with a new dress she'd been so eager to wear. They were supposed to be going together to the other world, but now the two of them had been left behind.

At the thought, another sob rose in her throat and she forced it back down, clamping her hands over her mouth. Her mother's last words rang in her thoughts. She was not a monster. She was -not- a monster.

And yet, no matter how Shion looked at it, her mother could not possibly have been a monster deserving of this. Azami had strange abilities, yes, and hard patches of scales that had fascinated Shion until she was told not to touch them, but... now she was a monster with bullets in her ribcage, and that didn't seem to Shion to be any better of a situation.

She tried to forget the noise of those bullets, tried to forget her mother's blood splashing warm against her face, but all that left Shion to focus on were the howls of her father. He still shook and quivered, fallen on the spot where Azami had disappeared, and it was with a dull sort of duty that Shion forced herself to her feet, planting her boots one by one on the bridge until she was by his side.

"Father?" she sobbed, the syllables sounding warped and wrong in her voice.

He had stopped screaming, maybe when she was ten or so feet away, but she didn't expect a reply from him. Shion stepped back in surprise as Tsukihiko braced his hands in the grass, pale fingers digging into the dirt before he raised his head with clear effort.

One of his eyes was swollen with bruising, the whites shot with red. Shion clapped her hands to her mouth, trying not to let her gaze linger on the blood at the corner of his mouth or the purple-black mess at his temple, half hidden by thin light hair.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn't recognize her. She feared his mind was gone, fled to whatever impossible place Azami had disappeared to. But then his eyes softened, his forehead furrowing with regret, and he pulled her close into a hug. Kneeling, he wasn't much taller than she, and Shion stumbled gratefully into his grasp, clinging to his torn shirt so that the light wouldn't take him from her as well.

"Oh, Shion," he gasped, "Thank goodness. You're still here. You're okay."

Her father's words had always meant the world for her, and as he spoke things began to sharpen and become real to her. Azami was gone, but Shion was still here. Shion was okay.

"Daddy," she whispered, helpless against the tears that burned again in her eyes. Tsukihiko kept holding her, saying true things under his breath as if it gave him just as much strength as it gave her.

Shion let herself cry, knowing she was safe for now.

It felt like hours before Tsukihiko summoned the strength to stand, though it could have only been minutes, since the stars hadn't begun to fade at all. Adrenaline and desperation had fueled him long enough to get him here, but now it had run out, and he limped badly, pushing himself to his feet with the aid of a nearby tree.

With Shion's help he made it across the bridge and into their small home. She tried not to dwell on the way he avoided putting weight on his left leg, or the wheezing of his breath. She was okay, so he too had to be okay. It wouldn't be fair to rob her of two parents in one night and leave her alone.

The world was never fair, but Shion pretended as she helped him into one of the tall carved chairs around the table, running to make tea. Fear made her hands shake, but the familiar motions of preparing the drink calmed her, even if it was the only thing she could do. She chose the tea for headaches, thinking he may need it, judging by the bruises she was dreading examining.

By the time she returned with two cups and a steaming pot of tea, Tsukihiko was slumped with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, silent and unmoving. When she set the tray down with care, he looked up, his eyes hollow but a soft smile on his face.

He held out his arms and she gratefully accepted the hug, not caring that the tea was getting cold. He held her at arms length, looking her over and rubbing the blood from her cheek with his sleeve.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked, sounding worried, and she shook her head. She knew better than to ask him the same.

Hoisting herself into the other chair, tucking her skirts around her, Shion reached across the table for the teapot and her cup, needing to do something for now. She bit her lip trying not to spill, the stream of hot tea as unsteady as her hands were.

Once she'd poured it, she wrapped both hands around her cup, savoring the warmth between her palms. She watched as Tsukihiko mirrored her actions, almost like he'd forgotten how.

She hadn't meant to say anything, had meant to keep quiet and let him think. But it slipped out, the words rattling horribly around the inside of her half-empty teacup.

"What are we going to do?"

Her father gave her a long look, not one without sympathy. He held his cup gingerly, both elbows still propped on the table like it was the only thing keeping him in the chair.

"We're going to rest," he said finally, turning his gaze back to the inside of the cup. His eyes were hollow with exhaustion, but his jaw was set in a determined shape that was familiar to her. "And tomorrow I am going to to rebuild the door."


End file.
